City of Angels
by your21
Summary: The Faith Series 2. Miley has the world and everything good and bad is right at her fingertips. But never once, until now, did she fall away from her morals and entered the lifestyle of the rich and famous. Or better known as drugs and alcohol.
1. Prologue

Hey there! First of all, this is part of my "Faith" series, which are fanfictions that deal with Christian beliefs, finding God, and struggles with faith. These stories are not intended to "convert" people. Below is the sequel so _Something More_, which was Lilly's story. You don't need to read it to fully understand this fic. Anyway, for those of you who have read _Something More_, this story is going to be a bit more mature. It will deal with drugs and drinking. The writing style is a bit different, but its in Miley's POV.

Thank you, Jesus.Lives for continuing to beta read this series :) You rock!

* * *

"_Be serious, Jackson! Do you honestly think that I would do something like that?"_

"_Honestly, I don't know." He said. "You've been off lately. I don't know how to explain it."_

"_I'm Hannah Montana -- not Britney Spears. Besides, I'm only sixteen."_

"_Drew Barrymore was younger than that when she started drugs." Jackson shook his head at me. "Promise me you're telling the truth."_

_I rolled my eyes, crossed my fingers behind my back - such a childish thing, I know- and swore to him that I wasn't doing drugs or drinking.__ Liar._

* * *

**City of Angels: The Faith Series**

**#2 Hannah Montana (Miley's Story)**

My life is this crazy roller-coaster ride and -- no wait… scratch that. It's a theme park and for each phase of my life, it's a different ride. For nearly five years or more, I've been on a roller coaster; and a fast one, too. Before I knew it, I went from an ordinary girl trying to chase her dreams to a girl living them. I have everything I and anyone else has ever wanted. I'm rich, beautiful, famous, normal, somewhat smart (well, I'm dumb standing next to Rico.), and happy, I have the greatest friends in the world.

At least, I had all of these things until recently. Okay, okay! Hold your horses! I'm still famous and friends with Lilly and Oliver. I guess, the things I'm lacking are happiness and normalcy.

Things _were_ going really well. Lilly found God and we started going to church together. I cannot say how happy it made me to know Lilly was starting a relationship with God. It was nice and I was happy for her. It was also cool to have my best friend share the same beliefs as me. I could talk to her more openly about certain things knowing she shared my opinion and I wouldn't mistakenly hurt or confuse her.

Ironically enough, the closer she got to God -- the farther I slipped away from Him. I don't know how it really happened. I guess it just started with one innocent mistake. And then the mistakes became intentional, until they were no longer mistakes in my eyes.

I have a lot of time to tell this story, considering I have no escape from my current residence; Promises rehab facility. Yes, _that's_ the one. Kind of hard to believe yours truly is following in the footsteps of celebrities like Lindsey Lohan, huh?

I guess I'll start at the beginning. I don't want to leave anything out.


	2. Miley's Birthday

**Chapter One: Miley's Birthday**

I guess I need to explain some of the recent changes I've made in Hannah's career. First of all, I've wanted to write _my own_ songs. As awesome as my Dad's songs are and as much as I love him so involved in my career, I decided it was time to grow up. I was beginning to work on my third album and I felt it was time for a change; not only would I be writing most of my own songs for this album, I wanted the sound to be totally different too! No need to worry though, Hannah Montana's new CD will still have pop music galore. There are just some tracks that will be more acoustic and alternative sounding.

Anyway, it all started on my sixteenth birthday. Well, maybe not _my_ sixteenth birthday! _My_ birthday was actually pretty cool, but we'll get to that later. There are a few things I need to make clear, and I _really _do want to start at the very beginning of this mess.

I had my guitar resting against my knee, while I strummed the chords on it. My new producer and I were inside the _Virgin_ record label's lounge, working together on a new song. I was playing a very sad melody that had been stuck in my head for days.

"Have you found the lyrics yet?" Cory, my producer, asked.

"No." I sighed. "I start to, you know? And I start writing the words, but its like pieces of the lyrics go missing. It doesn't fit."

"Why do you think that is?"

Having a producer, especially the best in the business, is a lot like having a highly annoying therapist. They are always prying into your business so they can pull out a wonderful song. It works, but boy, sometimes I wanted to take Producer Boy to the beach and feed him to the sharks. It irks me that he knows so much about who I am. Even _I_ don't know myself as well as he does.

I took a deep breath and gathered the words to answer Cory. "I think because I know this song will be public, and I don't want _him_ to know I'm writing songs about --"

"A _him_, I see." The corner of his lips curled up into a smile. I could already see mocking words dancing around in his eyes.

"Don't even go there." I warned.

"Alright, alright." He faked disappointment. "So why don't you write how you feel about both the boy and the song that won't come into existence?"

"Producer say what?"

"Write about the song. Write about the boy."

It took a few moments for his words to make sense to me and when they did the words came out so easily. I strummed my sad melody, and sang:

"I got a song in my heart

That I wanna sing.

But my mind is _too damn_ controlling

So the worlds will get twisted

And the lyrics will go missin" I stopped playing the guitar and whispered a dark whisper, "But I need to get this out of my system."

In few days time and the song was finished. Cory had me in the studio laying down the track as soon as possible. It was the day before my birthday I finished recording the song. I started playing the guitar and hit the chorus after a few seconds,

"So when I say these words that tear you apart.

Look at it as an abstract piece of art.

When you see it upside down,

You'll know that I've come around.

And when my smile falls apart

Know it doesn't reflect my heart.

It's something else inside of me

That is bleeding."

"And that's a wrap!" Cory said from behind the glass. He had a big, satisfied smile on his face. His smiles are contagious.

I ripped my headphones off and went running through the door. "Are you serious? We finally nailed it?"

He nodded. "I really felt it that time. I could just feel the emotion of your voice course through my soul's veins."

We had been in the studio for nearly two days working on this song. Cory insisted it must be completely perfect, and since my Dad wasn't working on this album with me, Cory got his way. He said he wasn't going to settle for good or even great. In fact, I believe his first words when he got the job as my producer were: "If I'm going to work for pop star Hannah Montana, I better make at least one hit. And I don't mean a hit little thirteen year olds are going to be singing at their school talent shows. I mean something that seduces the ears and tears up the heart."

Needless to say, Cory was a very artistic person. The way he said things were complicated, but true, if you really took time to understand his words. He worked on my 'cheesy' songs, but he insisted that they be at least the quality of Hilary Duff or Mandy Moore. I did my best.

"Pretty soon," Cory patted the seat next to him and I sat down, "your album will be out. And I bet you anything you'll be number one on the charts."

"I'm not so sure about that. I mean, we're taking some dangerous steps with this album. Didn't Darius say he wants _Missing Lyrics _to be my first single?"

"Well, that's still just in the talking stage right now... but I personally think that would make a great single. It's a powerful song. It's R.E.M. meets Taylor Swift?"

"Crazy-Producer say what?"

"It's deep and artistic and powerful. It's also raw and relatable for the teenage species."

"Whatever you say, Music Boy."

"Before you go, you should know something."

I looked up at him with curious eyes. "Yeah?"

"The Record label is throwing a sweet sixteen birthday party for you."

"What? They do that? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"It's kind of suppose to be surprise" Cory confessed. "Well, they usually don't do anything big until well... _you're_ big and have paid your dues."

"And I've done that?" I ask suspiciously.

"Well, duh! You're pretty much an international pop star, besides it's your sweet sixteen."

"I have piles of homework," Lilly complained to me that day. "I can come to Miley's birthday, but I don't think I can make it to Hannah's too."

"Are you sure? I mean what's one day of missed homework?"

"If only Dad could've heard that one" Jackson walked in with a smug look on his face.

"Where is he?" I asked sharply.

"Don't worry, Miles. He's out fishing with the boys."

"He hasn't been fishing in ages." I commented to myself, but Jackson heard it.

"Well, now that he's not so busy with Hannah Montana he can actually have a life."

I felt a sharp pain 'pierce into the depths of my soul' as Cory would say. Why does Jackson always have to throw so much guilt onto me? It's bad enough without him adding to the load.

"So," Lilly smiled brightly, "are you going to be okay with me just going to Miley's party?"

I put on my best puppy dog face and mumbled, "I guess."

"What if I get you an extra present?"

The thought sounded fun for moment, but then I remembered Lilly's current situation: she wasn't a billionaire pop star. She really shouldn't have to buy _anything_ for me. I like gifts as much as the next person, but I always feel bad when Lilly spends too much money on me.

I could see the guilt in her eyes though and that she felt bad for not being able to make Hannah's party. "Oh, alright" I agreed to appease her.

My "Miley Party" consisted of a small gathering with Oliver, Jake, Lilly, Dolly, and Roxy… and of course, my dad. Mamaw was in the hospital and couldn't make it.

We had cake, opened presents, and then went to the movie theatre. Oliver gave me a mix CD entitled 'songs that Hannah doesn't sing'. It was stupid but perfect. I was even getting sick of hearing 'Rockstar' on the radio; and every other song of mine. Roxy, of course, got me a year gym-membership.

"You need to build up those muscles girl!" She said in her over enthusiastic way.

Lilly's present was an awesome vintage dress with matching shoes. "And for Hannah," she said, handing me a box. Inside it was a thick, purple leather bound journal. The pages were light pink and big. "It's to write songs in. I know you've been working on writing _your own_ songs more often, so I thought you'd like this."

And I did. I can't believe I didn't think of it. I've been writing on ordinary paper for so long. "Thank you, Lilly!" I smiled. "I really appreciate this."

Dolly gave me a dress for my birthday party and dad gave me a _Gossip Girl _book box-set. He said he heard the series was pretty popular and wished I would read more. It was better than a shirt that meows, that's for sure.

The best gift of all came from Jake. My heart stopped when he pulled out a small box and I wanted to slap him and kiss him at the same time. I didn't want him to play with my heart this way; therefore the urge to slap came upon me. But also, I liked the way it felt...and I wanted to kiss him. Inside the box was a silver ring; a heart in the center, being held by hands, and crown on top of it.

"It's a claddagh ring." He said. "It means love, friendship, and loyalty."

"Jake...this is really sweet." -- I already knew about these rings, though. I know their also a common wedding ring. And that if you wear it with the heart pointing towards you, it means you are taken. If you wear it pointing outwards, it means your heart is available. I put it on with the heart pointing towards me.

As if on cue, the others started to leave and get more food. "Thank you, Jake. Really."

"No problem. I didn't get another gift for Hannah. I hope that's okay."

"Of course."

"I'll be at the party though." He smiled.

"You will?" I asked shocked. My heart was leaping with joy.

"I can't disappoint my girl."

At first, I thought that meant we were something again. I don't know what, but come on - the ring, the flirty voice, the ring, calling me his girl, the ring, going to both of my parties, and _did I mention the ring?_

* * *

TO BE CONT.

I'd like to note that Cory will not become a love interest for Miley or Hannah a love interest for Cory. It may seem like it, but I promise I wont go all _Instant Star_ on you guys. Anyway, _Missing Lyrics_ is by me. And yes, I do have an odd obsession with claddagh rings. They somehow manage to squeeze their way into most of my stories. Anywho, a big thanks to Jesus.Lives for beta-reading :)

**Spoiler: **

__

**Sweet nibblets! **

**How stupid could I be? I couldn't of been more wrong about Jake. _His_ girl? Yeah, well that's not me. His girl is much more beautiful than me and just like always, she is my competition. His arm was draped around none other than McKayla! She must've got him to fall for her after all. **


	3. Hannah's Birthday

Oi! I hope all you readers are doing well this Sunday (or whatever day it is that you're reading this.) Anyway, this chapter was beta read by the lovely Jesus.Lives :)

* * *

**Chapter Two: Hannah's Birthday**

_Sweet niblets! _How stupid am I? I couldn't have been more wrong about Jake. _His_ girl? Yeah, well that's not me, I guess. His girl is much more beautiful than me and just like always, she is my competition. His arm is draped around none other than Mikayla! She must've got him to fall for her after all.

"You don't look too thrilled. What is it?" Cory walked up to me.

"Nothing!" I snapped.

He threw his hands in the air. "Just caring about my artist. And of course, a little interested in if whatever is going on will make a good song."

"Oh, yeah! It will make a good song." I shook my head furiously. "Jake Ryan is a jerk. Seeing his face makes me irked. I want to throw up and bathe in bleach, every time after he touches me. He's such an a--"

"Woah, girl. Personally, I dig the anger, but those lyrics really don't flow well together."

I sighed. "You're right. I'm sure Mikayla could write it better than me. She can do everything better than me. I bet she even kisses better than me."

"Oh, I'm sure she does more than that." Cory laughed, but I was confused_. What was so funny?_ Eventually, he must have realized I wasn't laughing with him. "Listen, Mikayla will never be a better song writer than you. In fact, I doubt she even writes her own songs. Anyway, you better get ready to hit the stage."

"Stage? What do you mean? This is my birthday; not a concert!"

"That may be so, but since the press is here..." Cory's eyes looked to the left of the room, where some reporters were. "We want you to sing _Missing Lyrics_."

"But I haven't even finished wrapping the CD. Are you sure?"

"It's what Darius wants."

Darius was the head of the record label and what he says goes. I let Cory and the rest of the crew set up the stage and I went up there with my acoustic guitar. Before I began, I said, "This one goes out to you Jake." It was fun seeing the furious look on Mikayla's face, but it was heartbreaking to see the honest, surprised look on Jake's.

By the time I hit the chorus, I was in tears. "_And when my smile falls apart. Know that it doesn't reflect my heart. It's something else inside of me. That is bleeding."_

The lyrics seemed like a lie. When I wrote them, it was when I was determined to just be friends with Jake and when we were going through a rough patch in our friendship. The pain I was going through then had nothing to do with him, but now, it must be. He must be the cause of this pain!

I reached the next verse and Mikayla had her mouth pressed against _his._ Her body pressing close up to him; fitting perfectly into his arms.

I finished the song, accepted my applause, and rushed off the stage. I ran out of the room and into the closest studio room. When the door opened after me, I could hear pieces of a speech my dad was giving about me and my talent.

"Take it," Cory handed me a plastic cup I assume is filled with fruit punch.

"What is it?" I raise my eyebrow as I take a seat in front of the sound system.

"It will make you feel better." He held the plastic cup towards me.

"If you say so." I take a sip; yep, fruit punch. "I guess I really am thirsty."

I finished the cup and asked for more. Cory left and I wiped my burning tears. When he came back he had a pitcher filled with fruit punch. I started downing it; quenching my thirst. I'd been so pumped up all day, I'd hardly drank. I think I must have been dehydrated or something.

Five minutes and three more fruit punches later, I started laughing hysterically. "So, really -- I am another person. I'm serious!"

"We all wear masks." Cory rolled his eyes at me.

"I'm serious!" I reach to pull off my wig. "See! I'm not just Hannah Montana -- I'm you average, everyday girl: Miley Stewart."

I felt myself getting dizzy, but I couldn't stop laughing. Cory took his hand and ran his fingers through my brown hair. He then touched my face, tracing light designs until he reached my lips. He quickly pulled his finger away. "What am I going to do with you?"

"You're not going to tell are you?" I ask, scared for the first time.

"Of course not."

"You're not going to," I get up and my head pounds. I wasn't sure how to phrase the rest of the question so I let it hang in the air and my eyes finish it.

"I didn't mean it _that_ way either. I'm too old and I'm not dumb. I like my job. What I mean is, you're drunk."

"What?!" I ask, dropping my cup of punch.

"I told you it'd make you feel better."

"My _dad!_" I gasped. I didn't have time to be mad at Cory for tricking me or myself for being so stupid. I should've known and maybe I did. Maybe I did know he spiked the punch, but I just wanted to forget. I wanted to play stupid. I don't know.

"Don't worry. Your dad already left. I told him you agreed to do a few interviews for the press and were kind of busy. He said it was fine that you go home alone; as long as you let your driver take you."

I calmed down a little and whispered the words 'I'm drunk' over and over again. Of course that would explain my spinning head and sudden urge to confess all my secrets. Finally, I accepted the fact that I wasn't going to get in trouble. My dad won't have to know. Cory took care of everything.

_Cory._

"How could you?!" I shouted, feeling my voice vibrate throughout my head. "You say you like you're job, but you could easily get fired for this!"

"Now, now" Cory pats my back. "I was just trying to help you. Besides, I figured you'd guess it wasn't just fruit punch. Couldn't you taste the alcohol?"

I shook my head and mumbled "No."

"You're really naive, Hannah." He says in a sweet voice that makes me sick.

"I'm not naive."

"Maybe so. You're just not experienced."

"Is that _so _bad? I don't get drunk and party -- that doesn't mean I'm dumb." I felt really dumb though. How could I not taste the alcohol? Was I really so furious and thirsty?

"Alright, I'm sorry. Forgive me?"

"No! I am going straight to my dad and Darius and --"

"Now, Hannah, you don't want anyone to know you're Miley Stewart, do you?"

I looked at my blond wig in my hands and shook my head. "No."

"If you want a new producer after this album is wrapped up, I'll understand." Cory said. "And I won't tell your secret as long as you never tell mine."

I ignored his promises and sweet voice; stumbling my way out of the room. Cory sneaked up behind me and scooped me into his arms. I started to fight him off and begged him to let me go, but my head kept spinning so I gave in. I was really too tired not to.

I woke up to the voice of my limo driver, "Hannah. We're home."

I opened my eyes. I didn't realize I had fallen asleep. "Thanks" I said and got out of the car.

When I got inside, the house was dark. There was a note from my dad saying he had gone to bed and something about still being his little girl. I shook my head, and stumbled my way up the stairs. I crashed into my bed and slept. It wasn't until morning came that I felt the guilt hit me.

At breakfast I nearly puked at the smell of bacon and fried eggs.

"Are you okay, bud?" My dad asked me.

I shook my head. "Nope. I think I have the flu."

"Oh. You wanna see the doc?"

"Nah. I'll be fine. Can I stay home from school, though?"

"Sure."

"Are you sure she's not faking it?" Jackson raised an eyebrow at me. "I think you should check her temp."

"Jackson, please. I'm not a child. I just don't feel well."

"You don't look well." My dad took note. "Are you sure you don't want to see the doctor? I'm sure he'd make a house call if I asked."

"No, really. It's fine."

I kept telling myself those same words all day long. _It's fine. You didn't know you were drinking alcohol. Cory made a mistake as to the kind of girl I am. He didn't realize how strongly I feel about underage drinking… _and other things. We never discussed my beliefs. It was all just a big, dumb mistake. I didn't really care that he knew I was really Miley. Dad even told me it was a matter of time before some slip up happened at the studio and they discovered my true identity.

Nonetheless, I asked God to forgive me for my mistake. I know it wasn't my fault, but I still felt terribly guilty. "I promise I won't ever do it again." I prayed, "Next time somebody hands me fruit punch, I'll be sure to make sure that's all it is."

Someone knocked at the door. "Come in." I shouted. I was lying on the sofa watching re runs of _America's Next Top Model_. "Hey." I heard Jake's voice and turned off the TV.

"What do _you_ want?"

"I just came to talk to you… about that song."

"Don't bother, Jake. I get it, okay? You don't like me that way anymore. I'm over it. Besides, I wrote that song a long time ago."

"I can't help but to think there's been some misunderstanding."

"Nah, ya think?"

"Tell me, what did I do?"

"You told me I was your girl. You got me that ring for my birthday. You… were kissing that... that… _Mikayla."_

"Woah. Hold up. I called Mikayla my girl. She was my date for the birthday. As for the ring, it was a symbol of our friendship." Jake started to sit down by me on the sofa.

"Jake, please. Just go home. I'm really not in the mood for this."

"I really didn't mean for you to think --"

"Go!" I shouted. He left and I was right I really wasn't in the mood for anything but to shut out life and everything that happened the night before.


	4. Confessions and Lyrics

**Chapter Three: Confessions and Lyrics**

Despite how much I prayed and how many times I told myself that it was just a mistake, I couldn't make the guilt go away. It was a darkness eating up at me. I felt so empty and alone and everything that's not me. I want to scream and tear open my body; make all the darkness go away. I felt so sick with myself. There was something else too, but at the time, I couldn't figure out what it was.

I decided that maybe it was the fact I had not only drank alcohol, but I lied about it that was making me feel this way. I needed to vent, but who to? Sure, God was always there ready to listen, but he wasn't going to talk back… at least not vocally, so I picked up my cell phone and dialed Lilly's number.

"Hello." she answered.

"Hi, it's me." I said.

"Oh, hey, Miley! How have you been? Sorry I haven't called you since your birthday. I still have tons of homework to do."

"Yeah, me too." I said. I took a deep breath before asking a question I already knew the answer to. "Lilly, I can tell you anything, right?"

"Of course. What is it? Are you and Jake dating again? Cause I saw you two with your googley-eyes at…"

"No!" I cut her off quickly… too quickly.

"What is it, then? Is something wrong?"

"You know I had Hannah's birthday party, right --"

"I got you two gifts! I'm really sorry I couldn't come."

"No, it's not that. What I mean is, something happened at the party."

"What?"

I had to focus on the words and force them out of my mouth. "I kind of accidentally got a little drunk."

"Drunk? Kind of? Accidentally?" Lilly shouted into my ear.

"Uh, yeah."

"How? How can you kind of, accidentally get drunk?"

"Well, here's how you do it." I replied, my voice thick with sarcasm to cover up the pain. "First you think that your crush likes you back. Then, you catch him with some other girl. After that, you dedicate a song to him. Next step is running away crying. After your -- someone notices you upset, they bring you some spiked punch."

"Wow." Lilly said. "Who knew it could be so easy."

"I'm serious."

"I know. Well, what was it like? Being drunk, I mean?"

The question caught me off guard. I didn't give the experience itself much thought. _What was it like?_ I let my mind roam back to that night. It was fun at first. I felt happy and carefree. Of course, my spinning head wasn't enjoyable. Then I spilled out my secrets to Cory. That wasn't good either. "It was weird." I decided finally.

"Did you get sick? Does your dad know? Did the press see you?"

"No, no, and no."

"Well, I really don't know what to say. It wasn't your fault if you didn't know. My advice is just forget about it."

"Yeah, I guess."

"It was an honest mistake."

"I know."

"So stop beating yourself up over it. I know you wouldn't have told me if it wasn't bugging you so much. Just let it go."

"You don't think I should tell my dad?"

"Well...that would probably be the right thing to do." Lilly paused. "But, I think, it's too risky. He may get a little too protective over Hannah."

"True."

"Also, he has a lot on his mind."

Lilly was talking about Mawma. She had been diagnosed with breast cancer and has been undergoing chemotherapy. I tried not to think about that. It was easier if I blocked it all out.

"Miley, you there?" Lilly's voice brought me back down to earth.

"Yeah, sorry."

"So, aside from accidentally getting drunk, how are you?"

"Good." I lied and started laughing.

"That good, huh?" Lilly giggles.

"Yeah. I mean, things are stressful... but I know things could be worse."

"I guess. Well, I really got to go, Miley. I have to write some dumb essay by tomorrow. See you at school!"

I should've started working on my ever growing pile of homework, but I couldn't find the energy or motivation. Deep in my mind, I thought it very trivial, what with Mawma being so sick. I didn't let myself acknowledge these thoughts until I was forced to. I told myself it was because I was so tired and simply didn't feel like it. I knew I had to get a grip before Dad caught on. Lately he's been so busy writing lyrics, worrying about his mom, and keeping his mind distracted when time allowed. He started hanging out with some of his old buddies.

I thought about reading the Bible, but decided against it. Then I thought about cleaning and doing chores, but no, that didn't sound good either. I finally decided to call some of Hannah's friends and see if there was anything fun going on tonight… nothing. So I decided to write some songs. I got out the song book Lilly got me and started scribbling in it:

_Oh, and you let me go. _

_It's so dark and cold here_

_On my own. _

_Oh, and you're slipping away_

_It's so unfamiliar and scary_

_I don't like it this way. _

_God's hand is reaching out to me_

_But the darkness makes it impossible to see._

Somehow, even though I didn't realize it at the time, those lyrics explained exactly what was wrong. I was slipping away from God.

The next day I went to school which was a complete blur. I had no idea what half of my teachers were talking about. And if it's even possible, I think I may fail home room this year! I knew if things got any worse, Dad would get a call from the school. That was the last thing I needed. But I had a plan to prevent that from happening. No, I wasn't going to do my work. That would be too hard. Besides, who really needs math? And does it really matter when some old man died?

"Rico, how is my favorite...freakishly smart person?" I approached the school's genius and also (to my benefit) the greediest student.

"What do you want?" Rico caught on quickly. "Get on with it."

"Well," I pulled out a large sum of money from my book bag.

His mouth dropped and he was practically drooling. "What do I have to do?"

"My homework. But don't do it too good! Miss some problems. Make some mistakes. I don't need to be suspected of cheating."

"You? Money? Cheat?" Rico's eyes were wide with confused. "You would never cheat."

"Well, Rico, maybe some of you has rubbed off on me."

"Even I wouldn't stoop that low." He laughed. "I would never give money away."

"Whatever. Just do it, will you?" I waved the money in front of him.

He grabbed the money and nodded.

"Keep this a secret. No one knows." I said and reached out my hand, "Pleasure doing business with you, Rico."

Before he shook my hand he said, "One question: where did you get this kind of money?"

"Lets just say I have a really good paying after school job."

"Nothing illegal, right?"

I laughed. "No."

It was dumb. I realized that I really should be doing my own homework, especially when tests come, but I'd be able to catch up later. Once everything mellowed down and Hannah wasn't so busy... I'd get back to being Miley. That's what I told myself, anyway. I didn't realize then how much worse things were going to get. I didn't realize that after awhile, I wouldn't want to be Miley anymore.

* * *

To Be Continued...

Yeah, so I don't have money to pay a little smart boy to do my schoolwork (homeschooled), so I better go start that stuff right now :( I swear to you, whoever decided we must know algebra is a very cruel person. Thank you, Jesus.Lives for beta reading :)


	5. Temptation

Before I kick off this fan fiction, I wanted to say something about Miley Cyrus. I'm sure most of you have seen or at least heard about the risque pictures of her (personal ones and Vanity Fair) floating on the net and in magazines. When I first saw these, I was very disappointed. I don't think the pictures were _right_, but I do urge you not to judge her too harshly. She is, after all, a human and we all make mistakes. I pray that she keeps up her relationship with God and becomes _**nothing**_ like the Miley Stewart in this story. I only say that because I know she is Christian -- I **don't** think the only good people are Christians! Anyone can be good.

Now that I'm done rambling, I'd like to apologize for the lack of updates. I have been busy, lazy, and dumb. As usual.

Oh, and a small warning: this has some very mild sexual themes. At least, I think they're mild.

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**Temptation**

"_**I know you see me watching you when I see you watching me. Cause boy your body's calling me and the temptation is killing me." - Destiny's Child**_

It was two months after my _'accidentally getting drunk'_ birthday party, that I finally went to another party. I didn't accidentally or intentionally drink at this party, but I wanted to. I think that's almost just as a bad. It was those little temptations that I couldn't fight any longer that led me to Promises rehab… that destroyed my life.

It was just some random party for some random event that I can't even remember. I think it was just supposed to be a really fun dance party. Many famous faces were there, and so were plenty of TVs and _Dance Dance Revolution_ games. People were competing against each other, while others didn't care about the games; instead they were just dancing with each other.

I liked dancing; I always have. That's probably why I have so much fun with the choreography for new Hannah dances. They're fun, I pick up on them quick, and I just _love_ doing them. However, I'm not fond of the sexy _Dirty Dancing_ type of dancing. It's not my thing. Sexy in general is not my thing. I may wear low cut tops and shake my booty, but I there are such things called _personal space_ and _modesty_.

Apparently, these guys here missed the memo. That wasn't what was bugging me, though. It was Jake and Mikayla. When my eyes fell upon them, I felt revolted. How could he dance with her like that? Then I felt almost jealous, because I wanted to be in her position. I wanted to feel his hands dance across my skin, his body up against mine, and his lips teasing me. That's what I hated, though - that _I wanted_ it. I wanted to be that girl I'm not. It was tempting to just walk up to Jake and push Mikayla out of the way.

It scared me and made me sick that I wanted these things. My stomach flipped and my heart felt heavy. I shouldn't feel or want these things. It's not right. At least, it's not right for me. After the guilt took over, jealousy came back for a visit… and then heartbreak.

Maybe that's why we couldn't work out. Maybe he's the 'put out or get out' type of guy... Maybe if I was more like every other girl and less like me, we could have had a relationship. If I just wasn't so damn good. Where would I be now? Where would we be now?

Thoughts of pregnancy and STD's cross my mind, but they only lasted for awhile. My next thoughts were centered solely on Jake. Is he a virgin? _Of course, he's not, Miley!_ The only male his age who is a virgin is probably Oliver. _Eww! Never mind! Not going there_. How many times has he had sex? With who? Is he sleeping with Mikayla? Is that what's important to him? Sex?

Another temptation crept upon me that night: alcohol. I thought of how it made me feel the last time I saw Jake with _her. _I'm sure there's plenty of alcohol available here -- but could I really drink it and not get caught? There were so many faces, so many people...all of which would love to tell _People_ magazine just how messed up Hannah Montana is.

Jake's hips stopped moving and he saw that I was staring at him. He had this weird look in his eyes and it made me sick. It was like he _knew_ I had been watching and what I had been thinking. It was as if my insecurities, temptations, and every other thought were scrolling across my forehead in a revealing marquee. He smirked, grabbed Mikayla's hips and thrust into her. My stomach churned. I had to walk away before I puked.

I passed a table with an open beer can, and I stood by it for a full five minutes. _Should I?_ I think the only reason I decided against it was: a) Who knew who was drinking out of it before me! I don't want some freaky disease. b) Too many eyes are here… too many gossipers.

I found my way to the bathroom. It was furnished with a sofa that had massive cream colored pillows on it. I fell down on it and started crying. I felt ashamed and confused. These thoughts were not my own. Everything seemed out of place.

When I look back at this day, I realize something. This was when the crack got bigger. This was when I officially stopped talking to God. Well, maybe I talked to him now and then, but I was losing touch. I didn't pray that often, read my bible, and it wasn't so long before I skipped out on church. I had no idea who I was becoming, and part me didn't like that. Part of me hated who I was becoming, but the other part, it was so happy not to be me anymore; so happy not to have to worry...not to be perfect...to just roll with the punches and take whatever comes. Of course, I usually swallowed what came down with some alcohol...but it was fun! To be free, finally, and outside of my skin. It was like growing wings. I got so high that nobody could touch me. Not even myself.

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To Be Continued...

Jesus.Lives, thank you for beta reading.

Everyone else, thank you so much for the reviews :) I really appreciate them. I'm sorry, but I can't promise an update again this week. My insurance decided out of the blue not to pay for my seizure medicine; therefore, I will be going through withdraws. Ugh. Anywho, I will -try- though. Assuming my brain will be functioning...it always helps to have a working brain when writing.


	6. Sour Cherry

I'm completely terrible. I had this ready for you guys about a week ago, but what I do? I get all forgetfull. Well, actually, I get distracted thinking I have the plague. & I am still slightly terrified considering I had a dream where "found out" I was going to die in 9 days. Blah! Anywho, enjoy :) & thanks to Jesus.Lives for beta reading

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**Sour Cherry**

I heard footsteps coming towards the bathroom. I jumped up, looked at the tear stained pillow, and ran into a bathroom stall to hide. I got in the stall just in time. When the door opened I expected to hear a bunch of giggling girls, but instead I heard a male voice. "Miley, I know you're in there."

"Go away, Cory!" I shouted. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Enjoying a party. I decided I should check on you. Word was you walked into the bathroom, looking upset."

"I'll write a song about it later, now really, just leave me alone!"

"Not until you tell me what's wrong."

"Cory, you're the most nosy, annoying jerk I know! Please, can't a girl get some privacy?"

"Nope."

"Stop being an...ass!" It was hard to say a word I considered to be a swear word, but it got easier over time. In fact, plenty of four letter words became part of my daily vocabulary… eventually.

"You're sweet." He said a laugh hiding behind his words.

"What?" I saw his feet reach my stall. I assumed he was leaning against the wall between us.

"You...You're just so innocent, Miley."

"It's Hannah," I corrected him.

"No, it's not. When I'm talking one on one with you, I'm going to call you by your name."

"Whatever."

"Listen, if you want your boyfriend back, why don't you step up your game?"

"Oh, so I need to act like a slut in order to win Jake back?"

"That's uncalled for! Having fun doesn't make you a slut! You're just a prude. I love your innocence, Miley, but I hate your attitude about it. You're never going to keep a guy if you're like this. There isn't a guy in the world that's going to wait for some prude to unzip her pants."

"Shut up!"

"I bet you told Daddy that you got drunk at your party. I bet you still even feel guilty about it. Did you go to confession too? "

"First of all," I stared at the door with angry eyes. I could've killed Cory then. Well, maybe not literally, but I wanted to. "I didn't tell my Dad. Second of all, yeah, I do feel guilty about it. That doesn't make me a bad person. And lastly, I'm not Catholic!"

"Too bad." Cory said, and I imagined he was smirking. "Those Catholic school girls are _hot_"

As if that night wasn't bad enough, the next day I had further troubles. It was Saturday, and I had to wake up at 5 AM to go to the studio, write more songs, lay down more tracks, and do more and more and more. That's all the label kept telling me. Today, I was supposed to write some songs and hopefully produce one that would fit on my new CD.

When I came in the studio, I noticed someone else there with Cory. My jaw dropped, my fist curled into a ball, and I'm pretty sure I was seeing red. "MIKAYLA?"

"Oh, hi." She said coolly and turned her attention back to Cory. "So, I heard you're the best in the biz and Darius said it's up to you whether or not you can be my producer. So hun, what do you say, wanna produce me?"

The way she said it made it sound like some sexual inuendo. "Uh, he's my producer."

"Yeah, what a waste of talent and time."

"Excuse me? I am not a waste."

"I love seeing a good cat fight just as much as the next guy, but please, girls, chill. I have enough time to produce you both."

"Good. Then it's settled."

With a quick kiss on Cory's cheek, Mikayla was out the door.

"You can't be producing her!"

"Why the hell not?" Cory raised his eyebrow. "Just because you don't like her?"

"And you're my producer...you're like..." I wanted to say mine, but I didn't want him to get the wrong idea.

"It'll work out. Now, we have to write a song."

"I think I can do that on my own." I shook my head, slammed the door to the studio, and ran as fast as possible. I didn't call my driver, a cab, or even Jackson to pick me up. I just ripped off my Hannah wig once I was far enough, stuffed it in my bag, and ran until I reached a small park in the neighbor hood.

The park was empty. I sat down on the swing set, pulled out my new song book, and started writing:

_And you have my world in the palm of your hands_

_Crush it into pieces; and see where they land_

_You're the devil in disguise, shining so very bright_

_Everything I cannot be, everything they want me to be_

_Is packaged in your perfect body_

_And you'll kiss the lips of every saint; leaving such a dark stain_

_You'll set the ice on the fire and freeze his flame_

_Oh, but I could live up to you. I could be better._

_I could freeze the fire and rekindle the flame_

I stopped scribbling furiously at my notebook. I took a look at where I was and saw how bright the sun was. I reached for my phone, and when I did, I noticed something. It was Mother's day.

Whoever created these days to celebrate parents were stupid. Did they not realize there are some children who don't have all of their parents? I remember Dad used to take us to visit Mom's grave on this day... and on her birthday. He doesn't anymore though.

I finally called a cab and had it take me home. Once there I searched for food. I just wanted to eat my worries away and watch some television… maybe Degrassi. While I searched for food I stumbled on a clear bottle filled with red liquid. It was wine. Nobody was home and the thought just came so fast. I knew Jackson was spending the weekend with a friend. Dad was in the studio and going night fishing with the boys. I was pretty much home alone…

So I did it. I took the wine to my room, along with a wine glass. I poured myself a glass and just relaxed. Eventually, I made my way to Hannah's closet, put on a red dress, and was taking another overpriced cab to the graveyard my mom is buried at.

When I got there, well most of it was a blur... I don't know how I found her headstone, but when I did, I fell on top of the grassy ground. I felt bad that I didn't bring any flowers, but I did say something. I knew my mom couldn't hear me or respond to me, but I wanted to talk to her.

"Mom," I said, "what do you do when you're becoming someone you don't like? I'm drunk," I start crying, "What's happening to me?"

Once again, I was turning to everyone but God.

I don't know what this looked like for a passerby, but I can imagine what they thought. They probably though I was a drunk or a drug addict; somebody on the wrong side of the tracks. My hair was tousled and a mess, my makeup running because of my tears, and I was wearing that short red dress. I didn't look good at all. If the people looked pass the outside and examined the situation more carefully, perhaps they would have concluded that I was lost. Ten people passed by me that day at the graveyard. Not one said a word directly to me, but I heard them whisper as they passed by.

I wanted so badly for somebody to reach out their hand. For someone to just hold me and wipe all my tears away.

When I came home, I crashed down into my bed and cried. I've never cried so much in my entire life. My pillow was soaked. Nevertheless, I drank more wine, until I was knocked out cold.

I woke up in the morning with a less mild headache than my last hang over. Hang over. That was something still totally new to me. After awhile, it became something I knew and was familiar. I snuck the wine bottle into the trash, and prepared myself for breakfast. I got woozy, but I managed.

"Sorry I came in late," Dad said.

"Oh, don't worry about it... I knew you were out fishing with the boys, so it's all good."

"Great! By the way, Lilly called this morning. She was wondering if you wanted to have a study session at her house. She said you guys got some major tests to do this week."

"Oh, okay. I'll call back, then."

"Good! I know Hannah's been a little busy lately, but you better keep those grades up."

"Oh, I will."

I didn't go to Lilly's though. Instead, I paid Rico a visit.

"What's it this time, sweet cheeks?"

"I got the cash." I waved a few hundreds in front of his eyes. "I need you to switch tests with me. We share all the same classes... If you fail, they'll always let you make it up. You can just say you were having a bad day or panicked or something. So?"

"I don't know what you're up to, Miley, but the answer is yes… _if_ you throw in another three hundred dollars. Papa needs some bling for this rap gig --"

"Whatever." I pulled out three more hundred dollars, "Here. Just don't screw it up."

"Don't even worry about it."

I believe Shakespeare, or some other dead guy, said something about the tangled webs we weave. I wonder, is that what I was doing? Honestly, the more time I spend here in Promises, I almost feel as if I am trapped in someone else's body. There's no way_ I_ could do these things. But I did, oh, I did. How many tears have a caused? How many laws have I broken? How much damage have I done?

I don't know if there's a scale out there that can manage the damage Miley Stewart has done, but my damage was an earthquake, I'm sure I would be a 10.0. Buildings would tumble, people would die, and I would have destroyed everything without even thinking.


	7. Going Down In Flames

**Terribly sorry for not updating. I've been very distracted, can you ever forgive me? Well, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Thankyou, Jesus.Lives for beta reading :) **

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**Going Down In Flames**

I handed Cory my journal with the new song I wrote in it and he began reading some of the lyrics,

"_I wonder what it'd be like if you were still here. I wonder what you'd say to be if you saw this tear,_

_And if you're watching me, would please look away? I don't want you to witness these dark days"_ He stopped and looked up at me, "Damn. Is this about your mom?"

I nodded my head. I hadn't said a word to Cory since I stepped into the studio, instead I just nodded or shook my head or pointed to whatever I needed him to see. I was never really close to Cory, but when you work with someone so closely, you develop a bond. It hurt when he said the things he did to me that night at the party. It bruised me, and it got me thinking.

What Cory said made my thoughts about men very negative. I never wanted to have a boyfriend again, if that's all that mattered to them. Sure, I heard it before. Maybe even made a joke or two about it with Lilly, but was it really true that's _all_ they wanted? That's when I stopped believing in love. Cory planted a bitter seed in my soul, and it grew, oh how it grew.

"Miley? Are you even listening to me?" Cory waved his hand in front of my eyes.

I snapped back to reality and looked up at him, almost speaking, but I stopped myself, instead I let my eyes speak for me. _What do you want? _They said.

"You okay?" He asked.

I nodded my head, and he shook his. "You could at least have the courtesy to say 'yes' or 'no'. You're being very childish."

He hit a nerve, pushed the on button to my vocal chords, "I'm not being childish. I'm far from being anything like a child."

I looked at the past few days, and all the mistakes I had made and came to the conclusion that it wasn't something children do. It was going to get worse, though.

I took a deep breath and responded, "Sorry. I was just saving my voice for the studio. Excuse me, I have to go to the ladies room."

I slipped away into the big restroom at the studio. It had beautiful tiled floors, chandeliers, and three big, white sofas. When I went in, there was somebody else in there. I didn't know her, but I recognized her face.

Later, I knew her as Jayne -- a _true_ rock star on our label.

When I approached the sink area where she was, her head was bending down on the counter. Below her face, on the counter was a white powder. She inhaled it. I watched her in disbelief; anyone could walk in, I was living proof of that. _Why would she be doing drugs here? Why would she be doing drugs at all? What is wrong with her_? I was confused, and scared. I was about to turn and walk away, when she lifted her head and looked up at me. She didn't seem scared at all.

"What? Did you want some, pop tart?"

I shook my head, "No. No thank you." I never forgot my manners.

She nodded knowingly. "Well, if you ever do..." she traced her hand in a half circle around herself, the way those girls do in game shows, when revealing a prize. "It's all at your fingertips."

"Um," I wasn't sure what to say to that.

"You're Hannah Montana, aren't you?" she asked.

I nodded my head, "Yeah. That's me."

"Nice to meet you," she held out her hand, "I'm Jayne."

Jayne and I didn't become friends, but our paths did cross a lot after that.

When I came back, I thought about what Jayne had said. It's all at my fingertips. At the time, I thought, _I've only gotten drunk. I'm not even going to do that again_, I told myself, _let alone do drugs_. But it wasn't long until I stretched out my fingertips, and tasted the sweetness that Jayne had once offered to me. But that came later on.

Cory greeted me with an impatient look, "Can we hit the studio? I don't have all day, Hannah. I have other artists to tend to."

I swallowed hard on the lump he put in my throat with those words. I don't know why, but things he said started to hurt. I used to love singing, but over time, I hated it. I hated going into work. If I had half a mind, I would have requested a new producer...or asked my dad back on the job.

I stepped inside the studio, put on my head phones, and started singing. I reached the chorus when I heard Cory's voice come over the mic, "Stop it! Stop it! Listen, unless you're going to actually hit some notes known to man, you can leave the studio now. I don't have time for this."

Nobody has ever said such harsh words to me in the studio. Or even out of the studio, except for Cory at the party. He was breaking me down, and I couldn't hide it. I started crying on the spot.

I tried to wipe away my tears as I looked back up through the window in the studio back at Cory, but the tears just kept coming. I saw his eyes soften, "Miley," he whispered over the mic, "I'm so sorry. That was uncalled for and very unprofessional of me. Let's give it another try, okay?"

I shook my head. I didn't trust myself to speak. He shook his head and opened the door, and entered the sound proof room. No one could hear what he said, even if he dared say my real name again.

"Miley," he said, "Please forgive me."

To this day, I don't know if he was genuinely sorry or just worried about losing his job. I like to think it's the first, because of his next words. They are words full of power, and during my darker days, I would cling onto them. He grabbed onto my shoulders and gave me a fierce look.

"Miley, don't ever let somebody else bring you down. If you're going to care about what somebody else thinks, it damn well better be somebody who is going to pick you up when you fall. I'm not going to pick you up, Miley. It's not in my nature. I'm not a _good_ person." He emphasized that last part, and I swear to this day he had tears in his eyes.

"Now," he whispered in my ear, "are we gonna lay down a track or what?"

I nodded as he let go of my arms, leaving white-then-red marks on my shoulders where his fingers had been. I wiped my tears, and I picked myself up. Although, unknown to Cory, he picked up some pieces when he gave that speech. Of course, I didn't realize it then...but God is very good at picking up the pieces. I knew it deep down, but I forgot it time and time again.


	8. Another Thin Line

**Woot! A quick update from me, it must be a miracle! Thank you Jesus.Lives for beta-ing :)**

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**Another Thin Line**

It was a Saturday, and Hannah had to go to a photo shoot. Usually, I invite Lilly to come on all my Hannah gigs, but I had hardly spoken to her all week. I was avoiding life well. The photographer handed me a cute, pink designer dress. It was a size too small, though, so I went out to tell him.

"I thought so," he said annoyed, "that dress doesn't come in a bigger size."

"Well, I can't endorse something that doesn't fit me, now can I?"

"Exactly. You will need to lose some weight."

"Weight? Why should I have to lose weight?"

"The shoot is off," the photographer called to all the crew, and I began crying before I could get control over it.

MiKayla ended up with the shoot a week later, because I didn't lose the weight. I didn't understand why I had to lose five pounds so I could fit into some stupid dress. Then, I looked in the mirror and saw a fat, hideous creature.

"What happened to my Smiley Miley?" My dad asked on Sunday morning. Everyone was sitting down and eating breakfast, except for me. "You know, bud, it takes more muscles to frown than to smile."

"Good. Then maybe I'll burn a few calories," I said in a tone of voice I usually save for Jackson.

"Now, bud, I ain't gonna have you talk to me like that. I am your father."

"As if I could forget," It fell out of my mouth before I even realized it. "Dad," I said quickly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"You sure you're okay, bud?"

"I think I'm just sick." I lied.

"Do you want to stay home from church?"

I nodded my head, "Yeah."

Ditching church was a habit I'd been developing recently. I didn't go to youth group or Sunday services. Instead, I spent my Sunday mornings watching _Gossip Girl_ or reading _The A-List. _Or sometimes I'd watch _General Hospital, _as I'd wrapped myself up in the security blanket of fictional worlds, and tried to forget the mess I'd gotten myself in. That Sunday, though, I did something else. I was searching for something to eat, when I stumbled upon more alcohol. I didn't think it through… it was just one of those "I wonder..." thoughts.

I didn't see any wine, so I grabbed another bottle. _Whiskey. _I held it in my hands for a long time, knowing it was the wrong thing to do, but wanting to try it again. I thought of the guilt I felt the last time I got drunk, but I also remembered this warmth, despite all the pain I felt. I desperately wanted that warmth back.

"Just a glass," I told myself, "that's all."

I thought the whiskey was going to be like the wine, but it was different. I could hardly stand the taste, but I swallowed it anyway. It burned down my throat, making my whole body warm. Towards the end of the glass, the taste didn't bother me quite as much. I took one last sip from the bottle, and put it away. Any pain I had from being told I'm not skinny enough was long gone. I fell onto the sofa and turned on the TV. _Dr. Phil_ was on and I wondered what he'd say to me, Miley Stewart. I daydreamed through the whole episode, ignoring the real one that was on.

"_Why are you drinking?"_ he'd ask.

"_I don't know. You tell me, doctor."_

And he'd spit out a theory, that I was lonely and sad, and the alcohol was my friend. Then I'd cry and he'd hold me like a father would, petting my head and whispering everything will be alright.

When the show ended, I knew my Dad and Jackson would be home soon. I erased all evidence of my kitchen adventure, and went upstairs ready to pretend I was sick. I buried myself in my blankets, and quickly fell asleep.

The next day, my Dad came into my room, shaking me awake. I opened my eyes and it took them awhile to focus in on reality. "Yes?"

"You got to get ready for school. Your alarm has been going off for hours."

I moaned a "yes", and start getting ready. Jackson had already left by the time I was ready to go.

Dad offered me a ride, but I said I rather walk… so I did, I walked, but I didn't go to school right away. I stopped off the convenience store, and got me some water and a pack of gum.

When I got to school I was thirty minutes late. Lilly met up with me in the halls, worry written all over her face. "Where have you been? We hardly talk anymore! You look horrible."

"I'm sick, and I've been really busy being Hannah."

"You weren't at church this morning, and you haven't been going to youth group."

"I wasn't feeling well this morning, and I've been busy."

"I'm worried about you." Lilly said, "I miss you."

"I'm okay, alright?" I snapped.

"Well, you sure don't sound okay to me." She said, hurt.

"I am just chill, okay?"

Lilly nodded, looking at me like a wounded puppy.

The next few days, Dad had been at the studio more than me. He was working with different artists, and eventually was offered a job as a part-time producer. He asked me what I thought about it, and of course I said, "_whatever makes you happy makes me happy" and" Hannah is pretty busy herself, anyway"._ He didn't agree to it right away, but he did eventually. He became busier, and I had more and more time alone.

I was walking a thin line of being myself and becoming someone else. I'd look at myself in the mirror and not even recognize that girl in there. _She looks like Miley Stewart, but is that who I am anymore? _I would say to myself.

Lilly came over to the house one Sunday after church, Dad had to go to work straight afterwards and Jackson went to the beach. I stayed home and poured myself a glass of wine. I had just put the wine bottle away and started sipping from my glass when Lilly came inside, without knocking.

"Man, there are some wicked waves out there. You wanna come down the beach with me and Oliver?" Lilly asked.

I spun around, caught off guard. "Um, sure, I guess."

"What are you drinking? Is that - wine?"

My heart started pounding and I tried to look for an excuse; any lie. The lie came so quickly, "No, silly!" I gave her a judgmental _'how stupid can you be?'_ look, and explained, "It's just Cranberry-Apple juice. Jackson's neglected doing dishes," I pat my hand on the dishwasher machine and sat my glass down and started to turn it on, "So we were all out of normal cups."

I never really enjoyed having to lie before, particularly having to lie to my friends; but that one made me feel powerful. Like I could do anything and no one would know any better. No one that is, but God. He knew, he saw all of these things. I didn't realize it then, but I do now. There's nothing like a dose of rehab to bring you back to reality.


	9. Losing My Religion

**Really sorry for the lack of updates, guys! Beta read by Jesus.Lives :) **

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**Losing My Religion**

"Miley, Jackson." Dad addressed us as he had called us downstairs for a 'family meeting'. "I got some bad news. Mamaw isn't doing well, so I'll be visiting her for three days to help her around the house, and stuff. I'll be leaving tomorrow morning. Roxie will be babysitting, so I expect -"

"Babysitting?" Jackson and I said at the same time.

"Well, yeah. I'm not leaving you two here alone for three days. I may not have a house when I come back." He took a deep breath and gave us a warning look not to argue, "Now, I expect you to listen to Roxie and behave yourselves, no matter how ridiculous she may be. _No girls_ can come over," he said to Jackson. Jackson grumbled something in response. He looked at me and needlessly said, "And _no_ boys."

"So Oliver can come over?" I asked. It was a known fact Oliver wasn't a boy per se. Sure, he had the anatomy of any other male, but he wasn't the kind of boy my dad worried about me being around.

Dad nodded, "Oliver and Lilly can come over."

Of course, I didn't invite them over, but that didn't stop Lilly. Only hours after my Dad left, Lilly came barging into the house screaming at the top of her lungs. "Guess what, guess what, guess what?!"

Jackson and Roxie watched her with wide eyes. I looked up at her with a dull expression, "What?"

"I just won tickets to the Justin Timberlake concert!" Lilly squealed, as she ran up to me. She clasped my wrists and started jumping up and down. "Aren't you excited?" she asked, when she noticed I wasn't happy dancing with her.

"Yeah. Cool for you."

"I got _two_ tickets! You're coming with me!"

"Lilly, I can't. My dad's out of town...I'm not allowed to go anywhere."

"Now, now, Miley. I can come with you," Roxie interrupted, "I'd really like to see that Justin. He's a hunk!."

"See! You can come!" Lilly smiled at me, an eager look in her eyes.

"People still say 'hunk'?" I muttered under my breath, and then gave the fakest smile I could muster up. "Awesome!"

I know I should have been jumping up and down, dancing, and screaming, but at the moment things like Justin Timberlake seemed so trivial. Mamaw was sick, and it wasn't good. If Dad had to help her around the house, I knew something was wrong. What if she's dying? I tried not to think about it, but it was there. Each moment it was tearing a hole into my heart. I'd get distracted for moment, focusing on life, but it'd be back; a voice inside my head saying 'Mamaw's sick. She might be dying'. I hated it. I wanted to get drunk... I wanted the whiskey to numb the pain.

With my Hannah connections we got Roxie a ticket to the concert which was scheduled for tomorrow night at the Staples Stadium. She was beyond thrilled, and it was kind of creepy. Who know Roxie was a huge fan of an ex-boy bander? I swear, she was behaving just the same as Lilly; like a teenager.

I don't think I'm a teenager anymore. At that moment, I was getting older. I remember feeling so high above Lilly and Roxie. I was at a different level of maturity, and a place much higher than their own.

To be fully honest, I don't remember all that much about the concert. I remember Lilly screaming her love for Justin, and Roxie too. I remember Roxie rockin' out to _"Sexyback._ The whole time I had been detached from the moment, thinking about Mamaw. I wanted to go see her. Why didn't dad take us with him? Would it be so terrible if we missed a few days of school? Or is there something he didn't want us to see?

The next night we got a call from Dad. Jackson put him on speakerphone.

"Guys, I won't be coming back as planned. I'm going to be staying with my mom for a few more days." his voice cracked, "I...I'm worried about her. She's not doing well at all."

"Dad, tell me what's wrong?" I cried. I wish I could see him... and that way he could hold me. I need to be held so badly right now.

"Mamaw didn't want me to tell you guys this, but I think it's time you knew. She was diagnosed with breast cancer a week ago. Mamaw's been in and out of the hospital for various reasons and symptoms these past few months... and last week she discovered a lump on her... she's really sick, Miles. The doctors have her doing chemo."

Roxie was in the corner of the room with her eyes averted, trying to avoid this private moment. Jackson was frozen.

"Is she going to die?" I asked, my voice quavering.

"I don't know. It's not looking good."

I woke up at 2 AM that night, or rather morning. I was sweating and shivering. This wasn't right. Mamaw shouldn't be sick. I stared at my ceiling the rest of the night, waiting for the sun to shine through my curtains. My stomach was flipping and my eyes burning from crying; at some point I ran out of tears.

At 7 AM I got dressed and ready for school, but instead I ended up at church. It was Monday, and it was for the most part empty. I sat on the pew and started crying, "Why? Why God? Are you really so selfish and cruel you want to take her away from me? I hate you!"

I felt eyes on me, but only one person approached me. He was a youth pastor here. "Miley? Is that you?"

"Piss off." I said. I collected my book bag and stood up. I looked him right in the eye and laughed. I saw him the same way I saw Cory, Jake, and every other male. His conservative mannerism didn't make him any different. He was a man-whore like the rest... he had no right to look at me like that. No right to approach me, because of my cries against God.

But despite all those thoughts, as I walked away, I wanted this familiar stranger to grab my arm and hold me, while I cry.


	10. Just A Few Questions

**Just A Few Questions**

People always say they understand when they don't. They may understand _why_ you feel a certain way, but they can't understand the actual pain. I think even people who have gone through the same thing, can't always understand what it's like for the other person. I think heartbreak, grief, fear, and various forms of pain are different for everyone. It's the same as coping, we all do it differently. I think the only thing the same is the empty pain in your heart. And you know how science is always explaining emotions like "love"? I'd really like to hear their explanation of that pain in my heart. Maybe it's not really my heart; maybe it's my soul, buried deep in my chest sending that pain to the surface and opening the floodgates. And maybe that's why it's such an empty pain, the floodgates of my soul are opening and escaping out of my eyes, leaving it completely vacant.

It's really odd, because I had been thinking of my own mothers' death more and more. I wrote that song about her, I went to her grave drunk, and I still miss her like hell. Maybe "hell" isn't an appropriate way to describe how much you miss a dead person, but I don't think there's a strong enough word to really explain how much I miss her. It is like hell, though… the grief… the pain. If there is a hell, it wouldn't be filled with fire like people think; it would be filled with emotional pain.

I never gave too much thought to how my mother's death affected my father. I knew he missed her, of course, and he cried...but he kept on a brave face, at least around us kids. It must have killed him -at least a piece of him- when she died. It was something sudden and unexpected, and unfair. I was too young to grasp death, and it wasn't until I got older did I really start to grieve. But my dad, he understood it... so how could he even go on? _And what about Mamaw?_ I didn't know. All I knew was he seemed so tired and sad on the phone that night. It was like listening to someone else's voice. The words, _"I don't know" _lingered in my mind. How could my father say such a thing? He has to know. Dads always know, right? Why wasn't he optimistic? He's supposed to tell me everything will be alright.

But nothing was alright. Everything was completely and utterly wrong; out of place. I was developing a serious drug problem, which led me to Promises. I was also drinking...and losing myself completely.

The pain was unbearable, and of course I didn't try praying for strength. In my mind, if God really existed then I wanted nothing to do with Him. I didn't want his help -- you don't want help from someone you hate so badly. I kept thinking of all the cruel things in this world and wondered just why he allowed them to happen? Thoughts that I never think, unless a accidentally turn on Montel or Maury, or one of those shows. Things like little babies with cancer, children being molested by their fathers, fourteen year old girls being married off to men older than my dad at polygamist sects, human trafficking, kids starving in third world countries...If God is our so-called loving Father, why does he allow these things? Why is he allowing me so much pain? I wanted to know that answer more than anything.

My phone started ringing, so I picked it up. It was a model friend of Hannah's, Tiffany, calling to let me know about a party. "I don't know if you'll want to go, though. This one's going to be pretty wild," she said, "But lots of celebs are coming. No harm in enjoying some celebrity eye candy, right?"

I was offended that she thought the party would be too wild for me. Tiffany was 18 years old, and always treated me like a child. I used to not mind. I didn't hang out with her much, except at parties and gigs Hannah had to attend. We weren't really _friends_. We just hung out every now and then. But I'd show her though, that no party is too wild for Hannah Montana.

When I got there, I was slightly disappointed. It wasn't like there were any A-List celebs there. No Johnny Depp or Orlando Bloom. I did spot a few familiar faces including Jesse McCartney, Jake Ryan, MiKayla, Jayne, and Cory. Jayne waved at me as I walked by, and Cory gave me a smug look. I went straight for the alcohol, where I saw Tiffany. She was drinking with a few other models, who I don't know the names of. I grabbed a can of beer. They were all sitting on a round sofa, beside a table filled with all sorts of greasy food.

Tiffany saw me and opened her eyes wide, "Well, who knew Hannah was such a party girl! Come over here girl!"

I took a seat next to Tiffany, and suddenly felt very insecure. She was tall, skinny, and blonde. Even with my blonde Hannah wig, I was pretty...average. I wasn't extraordinary. According to that photographer, I was fat. _Fat, fat, fat._

I opened my can of beer and smiled at everyone. "When I have time, I'm as wild as the rest of you." I lied. I really wasn't wild; I was just depressed, confused and at times, curious.

"Here," Tiffany pointed to the platter of onion rings, "have some!"

"How can you guys eat that without gaining like 50 pounds?" I asked.

Two of the other models giggled at me, and then Tiffany gave them a warning look. "Just exercise! I run five miles everyday and I have a personal trainer."

"That's _not all_, Tiff." the snow-white looking model commented. She had shiny black hair and bright red lips. I envied her beauty.

"Shut up. I only do it when I have to."

"Do what?" I ask.

"She purges. You know --"

"I know." I said a little uncomfortably.

"It's really bad, though," Tiffany warned, "I only do it if I over-eat. In fact, I'd probably throw up anyways. I just give myself a head start."

Eventually the subject changed from Bulimia to boys. The girls started talking about sex, and I decided to leave the table. I was working on my fourth can of beer, which I didn't really like that much. It tasted horrid and didn't provide the numbing the whiskey did. I decided to see if they had any other beverages. I knew they had wine, which would taste much better. I eventually got my hands on some strawberry wine coolers. There was no whiskey to be found there.

I found Cory, and in my drunken state of mind, thought it would be a good idea to dance with him. "You're not yelling at me or giving me a pissed off look, should I be afraid?"

"No... I just want to dance."

"You're drunk," he observed.

"A little" I replied honestly.

"Well, as much as I'd love to dance with you, _Hannah_, I rather not. I better get going...I have to be at the studio early tomorrow."

When Cory walked away, a man with long, black hair approached me. He was the tackiest, but oddly the most attractive guy there. He was wearing a T-Shirt made of hemp, no doubt. It was obvious just by one glance he was a stoner boy. He took my hand, and when he asked me to dance, I said yes.

I danced with him for five songs, without saying a word. It was peaceful and fun and amazingly not like me. It felt so freeing and powerful. After the fifth song, he started pulling me along to a hallway, where there were private rooms. I tried to protest, but my head was spinning too much.

Before we reach any of the rooms I hear an oddly familiar voice squealing my name. "Hannah! I've been looking for you _absolutely everywhere_."

Stoner Boy stops walking and raises his eyebrow behind us. I spin around and see MiKayala. "What?" I ask.

As if we were BFF's, MiKayla grabs onto my wrist and starts pulling me away from Stoner Boy. "I _so_ have to introduce you to someone! Come on!"

"Uh, see you later?" I said to Stoner.

He seemed annoyed, but walked back out to the dance floor. MiKayla led me over to where I had been sitting with Tiffany earlier, where the music wasn't _as_ loud.

"Are you stupid?" she asks me, her friendliness dissolving within seconds. "You could have gotten raped. I'm sure you don't willingly want to lose it to _that_ guy." She looked disgusted.

"What?" I ask again, my head spinning.

"You've got to be careful, Hannah. These parties get wild, and there are a lot of guys here who would take advantage of someone as drunk as you. I know this is like your first big-girl party, but there's something things you need to learn. If you get stuck with a guy and can't get away, there are code words."

Mikayla continued on to explain the code words to shout randomly or excuses escaping from a guy like Stoner. "I still hate you, but if you're going to jump into this lifestyle, you sure as hell better know how to live it."

It wasn't until my hangover the next day eased, did I realize the seriousness of the situation. _I could have been raped. _My enemy saved me. I almost lost my virginity to guy who was more than likely the typical vegan stoner boy, whose life revolved around sex. And yes, I knew the kind of guys. I may have been completely innocent, but I _did_ go to high school.

That afternoon, Dad called and Mamaw wanted to speak to me. I didn't know if I could without crying, but I had no choice. I answered the phone.

"How's my girl doing?"

How could she ask how _I'm_ doing?!

"I'm good", I lied. How many people are really honest when answered that question? And out of habit, I asked "You?"

"Just fine." she said, her voice different. "Don't worry about me, Miley. I'm in God's hands… the safest place in the world."

I didn't know whether to believe her, but a safe place sounded real good right about now.

* * *

**Hey, guys! So, you can basically blame Gossip Girl books and this jerk I know for Stoner Boy. Had no intention of making him, he just came in. Anyway, thank you Jesus.Lives for beta reading :) **


	11. Slipped Away

**Slipped Away**

When I went into the studio the next day, I couldn't find Cory. I was eager to find him, because my co-manager, Charlie, contacted me with a amazing news. I was going to cover Rhianna's "Umbrella" on a live performance at MTV. "Everyone's covered this song. Mandy Moore, Taylor Swift, you name it. If you can pop it up, --"

At that point I had interrupted him, "I've really been laying off the pop, you know" It sounded like I was turning down some sort of drug, or breaking away from soda addiction.

"Well, whatever you do, make it your own."

And that was when I had a brilliant idea_. Cory._ He can sing. I've heard him. Doing an acoustic cover of Umbrella with him would absolutely rock. I had to find him! I asked everyone where he was but nobody saw him. At least, I discovered him in one of the abandoned studio rooms, smoking a joint.

"Hey, Miley." He said.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, I believe it's called 'getting stoned'"

"But, why?" Without thought, I reached for the joint and pulled it away from Cory.

"You wouldn't believe how much of an ass I am without it."

"Oh, I could imagine." I muttered, and stared at the burning joint. Turning it around in my fingers, trying to figure it out; why it was so important to some people. "You can't be stoned today. I need to work on our cover for Umbrella."

"You can go ahead and take a drag." Cory said, ignoring me.

"What?!" I threw the joint back at him, "No! I honestly don't understand why you're even doing it. Doesn't it mess you up? To have something mess with your mind...isn't that scary?"

"It just makes me relax. It's not like I'm getting drunk, like a certain someone at a certain party last night"

"I was just having fun." I lied.

The room started feeling really small, and I felt like Cory was reading my mind. He had that way of looking right through me, and I hated it. He could see things about myself that I couldn't see yet. He saw the sadness in my eyes and the emptiness I felt inside, he saw my vulnerability, my innocence, and the lack there of. He carefully took a drag on the joint I had thrown back at him, holding the smoke in for a few moments. When he exhaled, he looked up at me. "Miley, I heard about your grandma."

"What did you hear?"

"Your dad called to let me know she was dying, and told me I should --"

His words faded out. _Dying?_ So, Mamaw was really dying? Why didn't he tell me that? _All Dad said was he doesn't know, but he did know! _I felt my body collapse, but before I hit the ground, something grabbed hold of me. Everything was spinning, and in a few seconds everything went black. For moment, I thought I was dreaming and it was God's invisible hands wrapped around me in the darkness. Maybe He was going to take me to my Grandma's, and cure her, just like Jesus cured people in the Bible.

"Miley!" I heard a familiar voice shout. It wasn't the booming voice I imagined God to have, so I knew those weren't His hands holding me, but Cory. My eyes flickered open, and I saw him holding me up in his arms.

"What happened?" I asked, trying to free myself from Cory's arms, but he wouldn't let go. Instead, Cory helped me up, keeping me steady.

"You passed out. Are you okay?"

I nodded. "Did he really say that?" I asked, "Did he say she's dying?"

"...You...didn't...know?"

I shook my head, feeling dizzy again, "No."

"Well, shit. I really feel like an asshole now."

I thought of everything Cory said to me, all the cruel things, and _this_ mad him feel bad. Telling me the truth. The cold, hard truth...that my father was obviously keeping from me. I started shaking, and despite myself, I crashed into Cory's chest and started crying.

"Well, maybe I heard it wrong." Cory said, patting my back like a dog. He obviously never comforted anyone in his life.

"No...he probably knew and was keeping it from me, because of Mamaw. She told me she was fine..."

"Well, maybe they just found out the chemo isn't responding or something?"

"Maybe."

I was still shaking in Cory's arms, his shirt getting wet from my tears. He apparently got sick of being a good guy, because he pushed me away, grabbed a new joint and lit it. "Here," he handed it to me, "It will make you feel better."

"I doubt it. The only thing that seems to _really_ numb the pain is alcohol. Preferably whiskey." I couldn't believe I let slip my little secret.

"Be careful with that shit, girl. I don't need you getting alcohol poisoning on me! Here, just try it!" Cory insisted, eyeing the joint.

Unsure of how to actually smoke, I got nervous...but I tried to mimic what I had seen Cory do. I ended up choking.

"You'll get used to it."

I spent thirty minutes in that studio getting stoned. It didn't make me feel better, like Cory promised, but I was more relaxed...painfully relaxed.

"So, you're covering Umbrella?" Cory asked, when we entered Studio A.

"Yeah, and I was kind of wondering if you'd sing it with me."

"Umbrella? Well, I guess the publicity would be good. I don't really dig the song though. Also, it's up to MTV and the label if I can join you on stage. How were you planning to sing it?"

I grabbed my acoustic guitar and sat down. I started playing the chords, "Very acoustic, like this. Just me and my guitar... and your voice and mine."

"No," he grabbed the guitar. "How about you sing it sort of like 'Nobody's Perfect'. Start is off slow, then I can come out with the electric guitar...and we can rock it up."

"But rock, not pop?"

"Can it be, Hannah Montana is going to be a rock star?"

"Shut up," I grabbed my guitar back from him.

When I came home, Jackson was playing a video game with Roxie. "Take that!" he shouted. He paused the game and turned his head around to look at me. "Hey, Miles. Wanna play?

"Mamaw's dying." I said matter-of-factly, and before anyone else could say anything I spun around and ran upstairs. I slammed my door shut, took off my clothes, and wrapped myself in a silk robe. I went inside my bathroom, turned the hot water on as high as I could stand, and stepped inside the shower.

When I came out, my skin was red from the scolding water...but it didn't feel too hot, it felt warm and good. I looked at myself in the mirror; my eyes bloodshot from smoking and crying, my fat body dripping wet, and something else. Something I couldn't place my hand on, but it had something to do with getting older...something with the look in my eyes.

It was then I realized wasn't Miley Stewart anymore.

* * *

**So, poor me, got the sattelite shut off sobs, therefore I wont be able to watch Hannah Montana. :( Anyone wanna fill me in on new episodes? I'll give you hugs! Or does anyone know a site with script transcripts on them? For that, you'd get some virtual cookies and a hug! Anyway, I hope you guys liked this chapter, 'twas beta read by the lovely Jesus.Lives! Oh, and on a totally off topic note, I just discovered this Christiasn music artist, Brooke Fraser. Her music rocks, so ya'll should check her out!**


	12. Little Sister

**So, I'm really dumb. I thought I already posted this! I think sometimes, I tell myself "Okay, I need to do this", and then I don't, but think I did. If that makes any sense, hah! Anyway, have you guy's heard Miley's "Breakout" album? Well, I LOVE it. Her cover of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun and (These) Four Walls is great! My favorite songs on there are Goodbye and The Driveway. If you haven't heard it yet, you should check it out! This is beta read by, of course, the amazing Jesus.Lives :) **

* * *

**Little Sister**

"**_My little sister is a zombie in a body with no soul in a role, she has learned to play in a world today where nothing else matters, but it matters, we got to start feeding our souls..."_**

I came stumbling down the stairs in the morning. I had taken a sleeping pill from a bottle I found in my bathroom; it had Roxie's name on it. There was a 60 day supply, and I was sure she wouldn't even notice if one pill was missing. Whatever the pill was, it knocked me out. I hadn't had such a good night sleep since God knows when. When I woke up, it was past twelve and finally Sunday.

It's been a few days or so since my 'getting stoned for the first time' day. Of all my "first times", that had to of been the biggest let down. I managed to keep away from the parties, and I spent most of my days at home. If I went to school, I would skip classes. Oliver tried to tag along with me once.

"_Where are you going?" he'd asked._

"_Wouldn't you like to know?" I'd teased him back flirtatiously. _

"_Are you cutting class?" _

"_So what if I am. We can't be perfect all the time,"_

"_Can I come?" _

"_If you want…"_

Needless to say, Oliver chickened out. He may have_ thought_ it was cool to cut class, but when it came down to it, he was terrified of getting caught playing hookie. It was at that moment that I started considering my friends boring… too good, too nice… and nowhere near anything like me...not anymore, at least.

After Jackson and Roxie went to bed, I would sneak some wine, whiskey, champagne, whatever I could get my hands on up to my room. It was so nice to unwind after a day of being painfully aware to the life I was living and the people I was losing. I was getting a little lonely, though, so I started going online and checking out different chat rooms and message boards. Mostly everyone wanted a link to a "myspace" or a picture of me...and a lot asked to see me on camera. It got annoying, so I ditched the internet last night and called Jake.

I don't know why I chose to call him. I guess it was because I wondered what he thought of me now. He saw me at that party getting drunk and hanging out with those models, and no doubt he saw me dancing with Mr. Stoner Boy. And if he didn't, I'm sure his _girlfriend_ told him. I didn't talk to Jake long, though, because he was busy filming for a movie. He did manage to ask me how I am and said he was sorry about my Mamaw; _how did everyone know about that?!_ He also said he was praying for me,

"_I'm not much of a Christian boy, but I know God is important to you and I know what you're going through is rough, so I decided to have a talk with Him"_

My heart shattered when he said that, for a few reasons that I didn't recognize at the time. It hurt me that he could talk to God, when I couldn't and wouldn't. It also hurt me that he cared. Love can tear you apart, and I don't mean when you love someone who betrays you...but when somebody loves you, when they shouldn't. I never felt that kind of pain before, and I didn't feel it again until after I entered Promises rehab.

Nobody made any comments about my sudden announcement that Mamaw is dying, which pissed me off even further. _How could Jackson just sit there and play video games_? His silence proved he knew she was dying, or he at least suspected as much.

"Miley, Dad called this morning, but you were sleeping." Jackson said.

"Oh, well." I said, and then realized my attitude. "Sorry, did he want me to call him back?"

"Yeah. He's kind of worried about you."

I couldn't help it, I laughed.

"Miley, what's been up with you lately?" Jackson asked suddenly. "You're always out at some party, sleeping, or at the studio. And don't think I haven't noticed you've been cutting class. Dad's going to find out about it, you know? And then you can't be Hannah anymore, not to mention you'll be grounded forever!"

"Maybe you should mind your own business." I said, angrily.

"You are my business, Miles. I'm your older brother... I'm supposed to look out for you."

"Whatever."

"You don't hang out with Lilly and Oliver anymore," He continued, "and you haven't been going to church. I know this world is full of pressure and there's tons of peer pressure, and when you're famous it's a million times worse... if there's something you want to tell me..."

"Like what?" I asked playing innocent.

"Are you doing drugs?"

"Drugs!" I exclaimed, laughing.

"Drinking?" he asked. "It's okay. You can tell me."

"Be serious, Jackson! Do you honestly think that I would do something like that?"

"Honestly, I don't know." He said. "You've been off lately. I don't know how to explain it."

"I'm Hannah Montana -- not Britney Spears. Besides, I'm only sixteen."

"Drew Barrymore was younger than that when she started drugs." Jackson shook his head at me. "Promise me you're telling the truth."

I rolled my eyes, crossed my fingers behind my back - such a childish thing, I know- and swore to him that I wasn't doing drugs or drinking. Liar.

Jackson nodded, looking relieved but still a little suspicious. "Sorry for accusing you. But just so you know, I'm always here, read to listen and not judge. I know it's weird talking like this, but I've been there. I got drunk once."

"Really?" I asked, only feigning interest.

"Yep! I was at some party, and my date was drinking. I didn't want to look dumb and immature, so had some beers too. But now, I realize, _she_ was the immature one."

It bugged me Jackson was being so honest with me. He had to know I could easily run and tell Dad this the next time he pissed me off, and got him grounded for months. "Wow." I said. Curiosity started working its way through me, and I had to ask, "Have you done anything else? Smoked pot? Pop pills?"

Jackson seemed taken aback, "Well, no. Why? Do some of your friends do that stuff?"

_Not really,_ I thought, _but I do_. "No. I was just wondering."

"Well, you better call Dad back."

"Wait, did you tell him you think I'm going all Britney?"

"No, but we did tell him about...the other night."

I picked up the phone and called my Dad.

"Hey, Bud! How are you doing?"

"Fantastic, you?" I say in my best Happy-Miley voice.

"Hangin' in there. Listen, Jackson told me about what you said. Mamaw isn't dying, but it _isn't_ looking good. There's _still_ hope, okay, Bud? If there wasn't, you know Mamaw, she wouldn't go through chemo and radiation, making herself feel sick, just for a few extra months added onto her life."

"Can they just remove her...boobs?" I asked, suddenly realizing I should have used the word 'breasts' instead.

My Dad was quiet for awhile, but then said, "It's not that simple. In some cases they can, but not hers."

"Oh."

"I'm going to be coming home in a few days." He said, "Then I'll take all of you to visit Mamaw."

"Well, I need to get into the studio. We're almost done with my album!" I said, actually excited for a moment, then guilty the next.

"That's great. I can't wait to hear it. Tell, Lilly I say hi, by the way."

"I will when I see her."

"She's not there?" Dad asked suspiciously.

Of course, Lilly was always here over the weekends, especially on Sundays. "She had to go shopping with her mom," I lied.

"Oh, okay. Well, talk to you and see you later!"

I hung up the phone, and I started getting ready. I honestly did have to go to the studio. I threw on my Hannah wig, but only wore a plain white tank top and jeans from Miley's closet. When I got to the studio, I rushed to the bathroom. Suddenly the weight of reality was crashing in on me, and I couldn't take it. I had to gain control. My stomach was flipping and I felt so sick. I opened one of the stalls, and threw up into the toilet.

"Ew. You couldn't at least shut the door? God, it reeks!" I hear MiKayla from behind me.

"Sorry," I said.

"Jake's right. There _is_ something wrong with you."

"What do you mean?" I stood up and flushed the toilet.

"You're having like a breakdown. I'd feel bad for you if you..."

"If I what?" I snapped.

"Weren't my competition..." she said quietly.

"We already know my music kicks your music's ass."

"Don't be such a bitch. I didn't mean that."

"What did you mean?"

"Jake. He cares about you. That's the only reason why I've been moderately nice."

"You've been nice?" I laughed.

"Well, duh! I could've told the media about you hooking up with that freak at the party."

"We didn't 'hook up'" I corrected.

"Yeah, thanks to me! You're a wholesome pop star...all the little girls love you, but I could ruin you career in an instant, and trust me it's tempting. But Jake asked me not to. He asked me to be nice to you. He's worried about you! I didn't realize you guys were such good friends...and I'll be honest, I'm jealous..." Mikayla started crying.

"You are?" I whispered.

"Yeah. Never thought I'd be jealous of _you_."

"Well, don't be. I don't want Jake or anyone. We're just friends, and hardly even that." I started to walk away.

"Don't tell anyone about this, or I will have every reason to break my promise to Jake."

I didn't acknowledge her threat; instead I walked out of the bathroom and found Cory. We had to rehearse for Umbrella tomorrow, and work on finishing up my album.

When I got home, I saw Lilly sitting on the sofa with Jackson. "You're here!" she squealed.

"Uh, that I am."

"Why didn't you tell me you're going to be on MTV. That is like sooooo huge! Rumor is your going to sing Rhianna's Umbrella! Is that true? Tell me!"

I looked over at Jackson who was watching me carefully. I put on a smiley face, "I've been super busy with my album! So sorry I didn't tell you, and yes it's true. My super cool and super sweet producer will be singing it with me. Can you spend the night?"

"I'll call my mom, but I know the answer is yes."

"Great! But you should probably also ask your mom if you can have a day off from school to go to MTV with me!"

"Really?!" Lilly squealed.

And despite the lies and the fake happiness, it was like nothing ever happened. Lilly and I were BFF's, planning what we were going to wear to Hannah's next gig. Jackson seemed pleased, like everything was going back to normal… even though deep down I knew it never could be.


	13. In This Storm

**So, I totally apologize for not updating. I was waiting for my beta to read this chapter, but it appears she's disappeared. Hopefully she comes back soon :) Especially since my grammar tends to suck. Anywhos, has anyone seen the Hannah Montana movie promos? They look really good. Does anyone know if that's gonna be the end? Like no more episodes after the movie? Like how Lizzie McGuire was? Well, I hope you guys like this chapter. I have a few more planned and then it's the end, and I'll be working on another story in the Faith Series. Most likely a Degrassi one.**

* * *

**In This Storm**

My hands were shaking backstage. I was completely and utterly nervous, and there was nothing I could do. At least, I didn't think of doing anything. In the past, my routine before hitting the stage was saying a prayer with my band and dancers. It helped calm my nerves, but the idea of praying wasn't anywhere in my mind during those days. My band nor my dancers were there to remind me of that ritual; it was just Cory and myself. Cory obviously wasn't into praying.

My body was weak, but I didn't acknowledge that. I'm sure some of my shaking was due to my lack of eating, and not to mention my intake of drugs and alcohol. I had taken another sleeping pill the night before, in hopes to get some rest. It worked, for the most part, but I woke up so tired. I drank a ton of coffee in the morning and a few Red Bull's on the way to MTV's studios. I was wired, but still weak. Perhaps the caffeine was what made my anxiety worse than usual, but maybe not.

Performing my twist on _Umbrella_ with Cory was just a taste of my new music and a glimpse of what Hannah Montana is going to be like in the future. It was like walking out on stage naked; I'd be bearing this part of myself to the world, and there was a big chance they'd laugh or hate me. It was terrifying to say the least.

"You need to chill, Miley." Cory whispered in my ear, but it wasn't soothing at all. "You look like a ghost. It's not going to be that bad."

"What if they don't like it? If they don't like this, then... my record... it probably wont even sell once its wrapped up and released."

"Stop thinking like that. If you don't appeal to the fans you have now, maybe you'll appeal to more mature fans."

More mature. I guess in ways, that's what my music became. I still had a little bit of the old Hannah in it, but it was different. _I_ was different. Despite my insane behavior, I had grown up some. I had changed. A lot.

Just then, Lilly came walking in dressed in Lola attire. Of course, she came with me to the performance. It would've been like old times, if only my body and mind weren't running down and my thoughts so tainted. I started shaking again and Lilly grabbed my hand. "What's wrong? You can't be nervous!"

"I just don't want to blow it."

"You'll remember the lyrics, right? I still have time to write them down, I think...."

"No, I'll remember the lyrics fine. If I forget, at least its a duet, and Cory can cover for me." I looked over at Cory and offered a weak smile. He just glared at me.

"Well, that's good."

Lily continued chatting my ear off until finally it was time for me to hit the stage. She wished me good luck, but I couldn't respond. I could hardly even think, but somehow, I managed to sing. I opened the song singing slowly, and then I could hear the sound of an electric guitar break in, and Cory walked on stage singing. His sexy, raspy voice taking over.

I didn't know if it was the bright lights or the fact I was scared out of my mind, but the room began spinning and I couldn't think of the lyrics. Stupidly, I glanced around to see if Lily was holding up signs with the lyrics just in case, even though I knew she didn't prepare for that. I felt something grab onto my arms and then let go, but everything was going black, so I couldn't see who or what it was. And everything after that is just a blur.

*** * ***

The next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital. I remember wondering where I am, until finally the scenery crashed down on me. There was an IV attached to my arm, I could hear the sounds of machines, and smell the antiseptics. And then, I saw my Dad sitting beside my hospital bed, tears in his eyes. Next to him was Jackson, but he wasn't crying.

"You're awake!" Dad exclaimed, not even bothering to hide his tears.

"What happened?" I asked. I remembered being back stage, being nervous about singing on MTV's show.

"You passed out." Dad said. "You were dehydrated and famished, and....."

My Dad never finished the sentence, but I knew...In that moment, I knew that he found out about the drugs, the drinking, and not eating as I should. He looked at me, stood up, and walked out of the room. Jackson explained to me how they knew everything I had done, or most of it.

"You hit your head," Jackson said, "and you've been out for a few days. Dad took the first plane back to California and came straight to the hospital. The doctors suspected this was much more than an eating disorder, but they weren't completely sure. I told them what I suspected, and we contacted some of Hannah's friends. Jake said he wondered if you weren't doing drugs and said his friends saw you doing some things at the celeb parties you shouldn't be....and then Cory told us everything he knew."

At first I was angry and felt betrayed. How dare Cory tell my parents anything? Why would he? That's not like him...but then I realized, there was this small part of Cory that cared if I died or something. He had no problem with drinking and doing drugs, but I took it too far, and he didn't want to see something happen to me. As for Jake and his friend (who I assumed to be MiKayla), well I was downright pissed off beyond belief. Cory....he wasn't my friend. Jake was my friend, and I felt so hurt that he said those things to my father.

It took me time to accept that it was only because Jake and Jackson cared about me that they told. I knew that was the truth, but it was so hard to accept.

When my Dad finally came back, he was accompanied by a doctor and some other professionals. One of them was to become my therapist. The doctor was the one who first spoke,

"Hannah, it is in your best interest that we see fit to have you admitted into Promises rehab. You'll have all the privacy you need and the best support to overcome your addiction to drugs and alcohol. Your father and I ---" The doctor continued giving his speech, but I was in such a pure shock that I couldn't hear the rest.


	14. Slow Fade

**Okay, I'll be posting the last few chapters soon then. I have them all written up, and since my beta hasn't got back to me, I decided I'll just post them. Anyway, I had an idea that was somewhat inspired by the movie promos for Hannah Montana and Lurlene McDaniel's books. So here's the idea: pretty much the same thing as a the movie promos...Miley let's fame get to her head and goes back home to Tennesee....and meets a boy. But this boy, he has cancer or something and she doesn't know it and falls in love with him and then finds out and life gets put into perspective for her. Watcha think? Should I write it? Anywhos, lyrics below are Slow Fade by Casting Crowns. The song is so amazing that I decided to use it for the title of my 3rd faith fic, this time written for Degrassi: The Next Generation. I'll be posting it in a few, so ya'll should check it out if you're Degrassi fans :) Anywhos, thanks for the reviews everyone. Only a few more chaps left to go. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Slow Fade**

_"It's a slow fade, when black and white turn to gray....people never crumble in a day, it's a slow fade."_

"I have some bad news, Miley." Dad said to me on my second day in Promises Rehab. His voice was distant...like the doctors and psychiatrists I had to see. He wasn't the father I used to know, but I probably wasn't the daughter he used to know either

"What is it?" I asked. I had thought it had to do with me. I assumed maybe he didn't want me anymore. Maybe he was just going to hand me off to Promises indefintely. It was silly to think that way, but I wouldn't blame him if he wanted to.

"The doctors said that if the chemo and radiation doesn't work, Mamaw may only have a year left to live."

At the word chemo, I began to cry. I was so completely broken and guilty, that I felt as if I could just explode from the pain. Mamaw might die. Death. Dead. Burried. I saw her body in a casket being burried in a graveyard. Her body swelling up and slowly decomposing. Lifeless. She would be gone forever, and there wouldn't be a single thing I could do about it. It seemed so impossible that someone as _alive_ as Mamaw could cease to exist, but it was a possiblity. If. If the chemotherapy and radiation didn't work. If was a word like maybe. It usually meant the opposite of what you wanted it to mean:

_"Can we get a puppy?"_

_"Maybe." _

_"Can I stay home from school tomorrow?"_

_"Maybe."_

_"Is my grandmother going to die?"_

_"Maybe."_

Suddenly I was pulled away from my thoughts. I could hear somebody screaming, "No." It was so loud it sounded as if it was coming from my room. Staff members came rushing into my private room, their faces shocked and concerned. I wondered if they knew Mamaw was dying; if they felt pity for me.

"Are you alright, Hannah? What's wrong?" One of the staff members asked. Everyone in here knew me as Hannah Montana, nobody knew I was really Miley Stewart.

"What happened?" Another asked my father.

"I told her that her grandma might die. She started screaming....Maybe I shouldn't have said anything."

That's why the voice shouting sounded so close. It was coming from me. I felt pulled back to reality in that moment, and I could feel my voice cry out once I again. I corrected myself, _no more screaming. They'll think you're insane too....no need to be locked up in the nut house. _I tried my best to compose myself. It was a lame attempt, but it was the best I could do. I probably didn't look very relaxed at all and my voice was quavering, "I...I'm s...sorry. I just got...I was...I'm fine."

The nurses looked at me skeptically, but eventually left the room. My Dad sat back down and looked a little more relaxed, but his eyes were still tense. He was afraid. Not just for Mamaw but for me as well. "Miley, I guess I shouldn't have laid that on you now. I just figured you should know. You might not have that much time left with her."

"Can I go see her?" I asked.

"Not yet. You have to get better."

Guilt came in all forms and was caused by many different things. _Get better._ As if I was suffering from some kind of illness. As if I was in the hospital and not rehab. As if this 'sickness' chose me, instead of me choosing it. I chose to be this way. I chose to destroy my life and even risk losing it by my erratic behavior. Mamaw didn't choose cancer. She had no say in whether or not she was going to get better. I had all the say in the world over my condition. I didn't even have to be 'sick' in the first place. I chose it. I chose this path...and I'd give anything to take it all back. It was such a horrible mistake. I was such a horrible person.

"But what if they wont let me go....what if she dies....and I don't get to say goodbye?" I asked.

"I wont let that happen."

"But what if?" I cried, "What if?"

*** * ***

That night, after my father and brother were long gone, I asked one of the staff members if there was any way I could get my hand on a Bible. They said that they didn't have any, but would be willing to buy me one ASAP. The perks of being rich and famous...you can get anything you want. People will do anything for you. If only the rest of the world could have such care given to them. I've been taking it all for granted.

Maybe I didn't deserve to be Hannah Montana in the first place. Maybe somebody else should've had that life. Or maybe it was being Hannah Montana that made me like this. I don't know. I can't say for certain whether I would've got into drugs and alcohol if I was still Miley Stewart and living in Tennesse. I doubt it, though.

When the staff member finally came back, I was in tears. She looked at me indifferently and handed me the Bible. I began flipping through it, reading various verses...and then I just lost it. I was no longer simply crying, I was sobbing like a little girl who fell down and scraped her knee. To say I felt even more guilty for all that I've done would be an understatement. It was such a horrible pain looking back on everything I did, and knowing that God still loved me. I didn't deserve it. I didn't want it, in a way, because I didn't deserve it. Having God love me so much hurt. Like I said before, love can hurt...when you know you don't deserve it.

"Lord," I whispered, my voice shaking, "I'm so sorry. I honestly don't know what else to say besides that. I'm just so sorry."

I cried into the early hours of morning, repeating "I'm sorry.". I didn't ask for forgiveness. I just apologized for my sins. I wasn't sure if God could really forgive me, even though I've heard a thousand times how much He can forgive. And I wasn't sure if I wanted Him to. I was torn and alone, but I could feel God trying to comfort me. It's weird to explain....but even though I was drowning in misery, I felt comforted. Relieved.

When I finally fell asleep, I had a dream of this angel. He didn't have wings or even a body really, but I knew he was an angel. I kept telling him how sorry I was. He said he knew and that everything was going to be alright. I believed him.


	15. Words Like Maybe

**Wow. Almost done with this fic. There's only one chapter left to post and that's the epilogue. Anywhos, if you recall in the pervious chapter 'words like maybe' were discussed. When Miley says 'maybe' in this chapter it's sort of going back to her thoughts there. Anyway, the song 'Perfect' in this chapter I wrote specifically for this fan fiction. Enjoy :)**

* * *

**Words Like Maybe**

Being alone with yourself means facing the monster that you really are. Or in my case, the moster that I was. I didn't exactly define myself by the things I had done, but by the remorse I felt over it. I was utterly ashamed. If being a drug addict or alcoholic...a party girl... was what I truly was, I don't think I would feel so ashamed. No, I'm sure I wouldn't.

It was three days after my admission to Promises that Lilly came to visit me in the disguise of Lola.

"Hi." She said in a happy voice, but she didn't smile and her eyes looked sad. I don't think she knew how she was supposed to act. Should she be happy to see me? Or should she be neutral? It was a confusing thing for the both of us.

"Hey." I said, "How have you been?"

"Okay. We've all been pretty worried about you, though."

"I'm sorry, Lilly. I didn't mean to hurt anyone. Or worry anyone."

"Don't apologize!" She said quickly, "It's not your -" She was going to say fault. We both knew that it was my fault. I chose this.

"How's Oliver?" I changed the subject.

"He's doing good. You know Oliver..."

"Yeah, I guess I do."

There was a long silence. It was awkward, as if we were two strangers and not best friends. Finally, Lilly broke it. "I pray for you. Every day."

"Thanks. I probably need that right now." I sighed, "I've done a lot of horrible things lately."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I'm sure Lilly heard most of it already, but she didn't know the details. I told her some of the stories. Why I did it, how this all came to be. By the end of it, we were both crying.

"I should've known. I mean I saw you changing, and I was worried about you, but I had no idea it was this bad. I'm so happy you're getting help now."

"Lilly," I said, struggling with my thoughts, "Do you think God can forgive me for this? Do you really think He still loves me?"

"You know the answer to that, Miley. God can forgive this so long as you're truly sorry and repentant."

"But how?"

"He's God. He created this universe and everything in it. I think He's quite capable of forgiving mistakes."

"Pray with me, Lilly." I cried, "Please."

And so we prayed, asking God to forgive my sins and to give me strength. "And," I added, "please help Mamaw get well. Please let the chemo work. I don't want to lose her yet. Please don't let her die."

Lilly looked over at me, interuppting the prayer. "She's going to die?"

"Maybe." I said, but I wasn't really sure what that word meant this time. Maybe yes? Or maybe no?

*** * ***

Shortly after Lilly left I was to go to therapy. I had been withdrawing from the drugs and alcohol...I didn't realize how addicted I was. In a way, I just wanted to get my hands on something to take away the symptoms withdraws. It wasn't _too_ bad, though. There were people here at Promises that could die from their withdraws...that were in pain and throwing up. I really shouldn't complain. I had things easy compared to some.

"How are you feeling today, Hannah?" my therapist asked me.

"Better."

"That's good. How are you feeling better? Physically or mentally?"

"Both, I guess. My friend Lola came to visit me. That really helped."

"Friends are good to have around. So is family. My notes say your father might be leaving town soon to visit your ill grandmother?"

"Yes, that's probably correct. She has....cancer."

"That's unfortunate. However, I would like to know how you are coping with that?"

"I'm not so sure if I _am_ coping with it. It's just so hard to think about, y'know?"

"Yes, but that kind of thinking can lead to problems in your recovery. You need to learn to cope."

"I've been praying a lot for her."

"Anything else?"

"I talked to my friend about it."

"And your dad, have you talked to him about it? Have you told him how it makes you feel?"

"Not really."

"You should. So, how does it make you feel?"

"Sad. Really sad. And...powerless."

"That's understandable. Hannah, I would like to give you a notebook. A journal of sorts, so you can write your feelings down. Or even draw them, if that's what you want. You can use this to vent out your furstration. The journal would be private and you wouldn't have to show me unless you wanted to."

*** * ***

_**Dear Journal,**_

_**Life is completely insane. I am completely insane. Under the disguise of Hannah Montana, I am being treated at Promises Rehab. Seriously, since when did I turn into a total Britney Spears? Lindsey Lohan? Paris Hilton? ....Or maybe the better question is, how did they turn out to be like that? Is it really the fame that turns people into something so far from themselves? Or is it something more? It must be something more, because out on the streets...there are people just like them. Poor people. Maybe it's the lack of something that makes people like this.**_

_**The lack of love, of family caring for you, of true friends, of God. **_

_**Dear Journal,**_

_**The doctors said the chemo is working. Mamaw is getting better...but they can't say whether or not she'll make it yet. I'm afraid. I tried talking to Dad about that, but he seems so depressed...I didn't want to upset him anymore.**_

_**Jackson is afraid too. He doesn't say anything, but I can see it. We're all afraid.**_

_**Dear Mr. Journal,**_

_**The shrink says I'm getting better. They're even starting to use words like recovered. Isn't that great? That means soon I'll be out of here. Soon I can go visit Mamaw....**_

_**Journal Dude,**_

_**I wrote this song. Whenever I can get back on the studio, I want to record it. And I think it should be the title of my upcoming album. In a way it's a sequel to Nobody's Perfect, except I wrote it. Not my dad. It describes how I feel about my fame and my life and all the rumors going around. It's bad enough the truth about what I've done has been published in every magazine and talked about on every news station. Adding to that with rumors just isn't fair.**_

_**Perfect**_

_**You all wish you were my friend**_

_**You wish you knew me like that**_

_**And you wish, we could all just hang out**_

_**And then some stupid rumor comes along**_

_**And I can't even turn it into a song**_

_**Cause you're already losing respect for me**_

_**Can't you see?**_

_**You are not my friend**_

_**And you don't know me like that**_

_**All you know is the posters on your wall,**_

_**The songs on my CDs, and my appearances on your TV**_

_**But that's not me at all**_

_**Because behind this face**_

_**There's a whole other girl**_

_**And you can't even touch her world**_

_**And you probably wouldn't like her anyway**_

_**She's not popular, she's not really cool**_

_**But in a way, she's exactly like you**_

_**She's just a girl and she doesn't quite know yet**_

_**What she's supposed to do**_

_**She's not perfect.**_

_**I really don't want you to give up on me**_

_**But I don't see any other possibility**_

_**I made a mistake; I did something wrong**_

_**But that's not really the point of this song**_

_**I just want you to know a little bit about me**_

_**Can't you see?**_

_**You're not my friend**_

_**And you don't know me like that**_

_**All you know is the posters on your wall**_

_**The songs on my CDs, and my appearances on your TV**_

_**But that's not me at all**_

_**Because behind this face**_

_**There's a whole other girl**_

_**And you can't even touch her world**_

_**And you probably wouldn't like her anyway**_

_**She's not popular, she's not really cool**_

_**But in a way, she's exactly like you.**_

_**She's just a girl and she doesn't quite know yet**_

_**What she's supposed to do.**_

_**She's not perfect**_

_**No, I'm not perfect.**_


	16. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Recovery is a long road, that's what I keep hearing anyway. My therapist says that despite the fact my mental health is much better and I've been 'sober' for over a month, it's not over. She swears to me that this is only the beginning, and there's a chance that I'll be back at Promises. "I hope not," she smiled at me before I left, "but you need to know, this is going to be hard."

I think she's wrong.

Oh, sure, I know this is going to be hard. And I know that there will be times when something bad happens that I may want to escape the pain with some drugs or alcohol, but, I know I wont do it. I know this because for the first time in a long time I have God back in my life. So long as I have Him, I wont have to do those things. I'm not saying I'll be on some Jesus-loves-me-high for the rest of my life or that I'll never be sad again, but God will be there for me. When things get a little too hard to handle, I can lean on Him. Not only that, but I have friends and family who will be there for me if I let them…and I plan to, this time.

It's going to be my first day _home_ today. I am walking out of Promises Rehab in the disguise of Hannah Montana, with my 'rehab journal' in my hand. Reporters are asking me questions like, 'what made you do it, Hannah?' and 'Do you have anything to say to your fans?'. I turn to the cameras, and decide I should be honest. I should tell the truth - what if one of my fans is going through the same exact thing right now?

"Sometimes, I don't know why I did what I did," I say, "but deep down I know it's because I was empty and things were painful. I was depressed. It started out as a mistake, but then it became an addiction. I also had some bad influences in my life." I stop and think of Cory, "But it's not their fault. This is all me. And I have to say I truly am sorry about this and any confusion or pain it caused my fans. I want you to know that I am human and I make mistakes, and this time I just happened to make a really bad one. I can't take it back, but I can be honest with you guys, and I can tell you the truth. And maybe once my story is out there, it'll help others who are going through this."

By the time I finish, I have a sad smile on my face. I know there will be more questions, but I want to get home. I tell the reporters I'm sorry that I have to go now, but I will answer questions soon. Maybe I'll have a press conference or something. I'll have to talk to my Dad about that one. Right now though, things are stressful enough as is.

When we get home, we receive a phone call from Mamaw. Remission. Mamaw is in remission. And just like my being rehabilitated, the Dr. said this isn't the end. Mamaw has to keep coming back for check ups to make sure the cancer stays gone. It seems so unfair…why should it be able to come back? She won the battle, why can't it just leave her alone?

I take some of these questions to God, but I don't think I'll ever know the answers. But I guess that's okay for now. For now, Mamaw is doing fine, and I guess that's enough to be thankful for.

*** * ***

Life's not so bad anymore. And although it's easy to get lost in the City of Angels, I know I never will again. Not with God leading me.

* * *

**Okay, so that's it. I'm somewhat considering writing a fic with Mamaw's POV, but I doubt I will. Sorry for taking forever to finish this, guys! **


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